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First of all, let it be established that I am NOT a Twilight hater nor am I a ‘Twihard’—let’s just say I am indifferent. I have not read any of the books (despite my mother’s SEVERAL attempts to force them upon me) and have only seen the first movie which was lost on me—aside from Robert Pattinson being a decent piece of emo-looking-vampire-eye-candy.
You may be wondering how this comparison came about… Vampires are fun and fun is cool. So, there you have it.
So let’s chat: Count von Count vs. Edward Cullen. I think the title of this blog explains it all, but if you are one of those teens whose panties get moist at the thought of Edward and think he is the bee’s knees, you better change into something dry and check yourself. The Count is 1000 time more of a gentleman and man-vamp than Edward will ever be!!!!
Edward, OH Edward…. while being extremely good looking, you are a total loser—going 90 years without a date until you met Bella. Seriously? No. SERIOUSLY? 90 years?? I realize you are frightfully boring with you monotone speech, incessant brooding facial expression, your sweeeeeeet Volvo, wallflower-like wardrobe, and getting your ass kicked ALL THE TIME, but you couldn’t get any for 90 years?! FAIL. In fact, you are such a lackluster lemon, the first girlfriend you had in 90 years jumped off a cliff and almost drowned. Way to go, Eddy. Epic FAIL. I guess being attractive isn’t everything…. AND glittering while in direct sunlight…don’t EVEN get me started on everything that is wrong with that. VAMPIRE + SUNLIGHT ≠ GLITTERING. What a douche.
Count…deastest Count…where do I even begin. You are the total package—although you may not be ‘hot’ in the traditional sense or have a reflection in the mirror (which may account for your style faux pas, but I can let that go—it’s not your fault), you are an intelligent, philanthropic, well mannered gentleman who is a lover of animals. Your enchanting gait and desire to educate children on simple mathematical concepts (such as counting) not to mention your pets (cat, Fatatita, and your many pet bats), have charmed many fine pieces of tail into you Countmobile—currently, Countess von Backwards and Countess Dahling von Dahling find you to be irresistible (naughty, naughty!). Your OCD and arithmomania drive your fellow Muppets batty, but your hypnotic presence always smooths things over. You are not like any other vampire I know.
In closing, Count von Count: 1; Edward Cullen: 0
Sarcastically spangled 3-by-3 inch squares of manilla hell and pejorative looks clutter the lanscape of my office which lacks even the most rudimentary interpersonal skills. This is 8 hours of my daily reality that has me constantly thinking: WHAT THE FUCK?!?! Did you think your scribbled question mark or snide remark on a little piece of paper was going to convey to me what you want or spark some kind of higher thought? And then if I can't translate your chicken-scratch writing or derive ANY meaning from it, you explode and completely fly off the handle--for fuck's sake, just say what you want and mean! It's like a never ending guessing game which any opponent is doomed to lose. I wish I had known that part of my job was going to entail mind-reading when I was hired because I would have seriously considered other options--thank you, hiring manager, for conveniently failing to mention this ridiculous daily requirement. Furthermore, when did writing illegibly on a post-it note become a widely accepted and preferred way of communicating with your employees? This shit absolutely blows my mind. Moreover, I think someone needs to put their big boy pants on, grow a sac, and start using his big boy words (e.g.: GROW THE FUCK UP).
I started a collection of these post-its at my desk-nook 3 years ago in an attempt to get a little humor out of this inevitable "situation" and to save a little bit of my dwindling sanity each day. This was all peaches and cream until the perpetrator of the infamous post-its became hip to my compilation of his "work" and was highly amused which immediately robbed me of any sense of delight from giggling at my private collection. This discovery has also prompted this person to put post-it notes on EVERYTHING of mine....even just to say "hi". Awesome. Thanks for ruining all of my fun, dick. I feel SO lucky.
